


The Sweet Life of Sam and Dean

by Michgator



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, POV- Baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michgator/pseuds/Michgator
Summary: Ever wonder about that drive AU Sam & Dean took in Baby?
Kudos: 3





	The Sweet Life of Sam and Dean

I’ve seen a LOT of weird in my life. Chuck knows I’ve seen weird! Vampires, werepires, ghosts and gods. If it goes bump in the night, I’ve seen it. Hell, I’ve had both a supercharged werewolf AND the King of Hell as the junk in my trunk! But this? This was a whole new level of bizarre.

It all started when Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack came stomping into the garage. Dean was carrying my old friend, G.C., aka the Green Cooler, so I knew we were heading out on a mission. Nothing strange about that. What WAS strange was that my totally chill buddy was laughing hysterically! Now, I’ve known him to chuckle a time or two, but this was unprecedented.

“GC? What is going on?” I asked but he was laughing too hard to answer me coherently.

“They found….twins...AU….you’ll never...male model…” he wheezed between belly laughs.

Yeah, G.C. had lost it. Maybe I could figure out what was happening from the rest of the group.

“This is never going to work!” Dean growled.

“Sure it will, Dean. They look just like us.” Sam soothed, “Chuck won’t know the difference!”

Dean placed a still chuckling GC in the back and turned to give Sam a disbelieving look. “If Chuck really believes that Ryan Seacrest wannabe is me, He’s crazier than we think!”

I gave GC my best WTF look but got no answer other than condensation running down his sides as he laughed even harder. Cas and Jack hopped in the backseat, both obviously trying to stay out of whatever drama was playing out with the Winchesters this time. They both looked tense and concerned as they threw wary glances at the brothers.

“Dean, it’s not like Chuck is going to pop in for a chat!” Sam reasoned.

“You better hope not! One look at those Italian loafers and that man bun and He sure as shit is gonna know something is up! And if they open their mouths? Game over, dude!” Dean shot back as he and Sam got in and simultaneously closed their doors. As usual.

As we maneuvered out the tunnel, Sam let out a sigh of surrender, “Yeah, I know. Your double is a walking, talking Ken doll and mine is…..I don’t even know what he is.”

“He’s a douche bag, that’s what he is! Did you see their hands? You can’t tell me they really hunt things with those soft, perfectly manicured hands! I bet they just sit behind the great big desks Daddy bought them and tell the REAL hunters where to go!” Dean bit off in indignation as we barreled down the road.

By this time I was totally lost. What in the hell did they mean by their doubles? Jesus, don’t tell me the leviathans are back! And what does a man bun have to do with anything?

Sam gave his big brother a quizzical look, “Why were you looking at their hands so closely?”

Dean shot him a pissy and just a bit embarrassed glance, “Shut up, Sam.”

Before things could get more testy, Cas took this opportunity to clear his throat loudly and make a suggestion. “Perhaps we should concentrate on our mission to find the Occultum instead of focusing on the differences between yourselves and your doppelgängers from an alternate universe?”

Sam and Dean gave each other a somewhat sheepish glance and nodded in agreement. Jack breathed a sigh of relief and all four of them started throwing ideas and plans around. None of them seemed to include me doing any more than taking them wherever and back again, so I was free to focus on other things.

Like grilling GC on these alternate Winchesters. 

“Ok, GC, spill it! What have the boys gotten themselves into this time?”

GC finally managed to pull himself together enough to answer me. “Don’t ask me how, but it seems our boys managed to pull a Sam and Dean from some other universe and now they’re trying to pretend they’re our pair of Winchesters so that, if Chuck peeks in, he won’t find out what we’re really doing.”

I thought about that for a moment. It seemed like a good plan, but one word kept worrying me. “What do you mean “trying”?”

“Weeeelll…” drawled GC, “You might say they don’t really have the same life experiences our boys do.”

“How so?”

“They’re more like the Paris Hiltons of hunting.” He smirked.

“What the hell does that mean?!”

“Seems that in their universe the family business is a big corporation and they get PAID to hunt!” He smirked.

“GET THE FUCK OUT! Paid? Really?”

“I shit you not.” He confirmed, “And not only is their daddy still alive, he spoils them. Private jet, flashy clothes, the whole nine yards.”

“Well, ain’t that a kick in the tires.”

“You shoulda seen their faces when they told that Sam he had to lose his Man bun!” GC snorted.

“You’re kidding me!” I gasped in disbelief, “I can’t even begin to picture Sam like that.” But as I tried, a thought came that had me chuckling. “Can you imagine what Dean would say if Sammy did that?”

We shared a look and broke down in slightly hysterical laughter.

Before I could get any more out of my cool compadre, we arrived at our destination, some tiny little church, and the next thing I knew all hell was breaking loose! Literally. Hell hounds were attacking the doors until a bright light spread from inside and apparently burned them down. Then the boys came flying out, rushing Jack into the car. He didn’t look good so it was a mad dash back to the bunker as Sam, Dean and Cas shot worried glances at their adopted son. I’m not sure what happened, but Jack did not seem to be injured, just really shaken up.

Once we got back, they all jumped out and took the nephilim in to care for him. I had faith that whatever was wrong, those three would handle it. With nothing better to do, I returned to the enigma of the out of this world Winchesters, wondering what trouble they would cause.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out. 

It was only a few minutes later that I got to see these clowns for myself. I heard boots clomping noisily down the hall toward the garage and voices that did, and yet somehow did NOT, sound like Sam and Dean.

“Seriously, how do they manage to walk in these clunking monstrosities and still sneak up on monsters?” The not quite Sam whined.

“I have no idea, Samuel.” The not quite Dean replied in a voice as smooth as honey and an octave or two higher than expected.

“I take it these are them?” I asked GC who had started giggling. Yes, giggling! Like he was some kind of teenage Rubbermaid soft-side going to Coachella!

“It’s bad enough I have to dress like someone with an unrequited lumberjack fetish,” the Sam fussed as he looked down at his grey and black plaid flannel shirt and worn and faded jeans with distaste, “but he doesn’t even have any pocket squares!”

“You’ll just have to rough it for now, Samuel.” The Dean soothed, “If it helps, I found a whole bunch of bandanas. You could use those. They coordinate much better with these outfits.” He seemed to be less bothered by his red plaid flannel.

Apparently, Sam’s bitchface is a common attribute through all universes, cause he shot a classic one at his Dean and snarked indignantly, “A bandana? What? Am I Willie Nelson now?”

At this point, GC was once again convulsed in laughter and I was just in disbelief.

The Dean paused in thought for a moment as a horrified look crossed his face and practically whispered, “You don’t think they smoke the Mary Jane, do you? Could you imagine what father would do to us if he ever caught us doing that?”

The Sam paled visibly, “Oh, gosh! We’d loose the use of the house in the Virgin Islands for at least a year! If not more.”

They shivered in sync at the thought and then began wandering through the garage admiring all the vintage cars.

“Well,” The Dean said smugly,” Yours may not have any style, but mine has potential.”

“Really?” The Sam chuckled disparagingly, “Old musical shirts are hardly style!”

“True, true.” Agreed The Dean, “but I did find an ascot in one of his drawers.”

The Sam stopped and gave him an astonished look. “An ascot, eh? I suppose there is some hope for him. And goodness knows, this is a fine collection of antique vehicles. I must give kudos to their detail man. These appear to be in mint condition.”

“I don’t think they have a caretaker for their collection, Samuel.” The Dean confided.”I mean, they don’t even have a chef or a housekeeper. I think they do it all themselves.”

“No!” The Sam gasped. “How can they get any business done?! We would never be able to manage killing monsters if it weren’t for Chef Marco and Mrs. Valence!”

“I know.” The Dean said, “But at least they have an accountant.”

“What?”

“That guy in the trench coat. He has accountant written all over him, Samuel.” Stated The Dean.

The Sam grunted his agreement as they continued their tour of the garage.

By this time, fake Dean had seen Dorothy’s motorcycle and was drawn to it like a metrosexual to a cosmopolitan.

“Samuel! Come see! He exclaimed. “I believe this is an authentic Indian!”

“Shouldn’t you call it a Native American, Dean?” Fake Sam queried.

As I realized he was serious, my shock broke and I was laughing right along with my green friend.

“You have got to be kidding me?!” I breathed between guffaws.

“Just wait! It’s gonna get better!” He assured me.

As this Dean ran his eyes over the bike with the same reverence my boy saved for bacon cheeseburgers and pie, I started to worry. I guess I should have known better. These two yahoos were about as wild as lite beer and cucumber sandwiches.

“I’m having an idea, Samuel.” Adventure Ken doll said with a gleam.

“Absolutely NOT, Dean! Can you imagine how mussed and tangled my hair would get?!” Princess Sam said in indignation as he stroked his shiny locks protectively.

“You could wear a helmet.” The Dean offhandedly suggested.

I really did not know that Sam’s bitchface could look so bitchy and yet so prissy at the same time. I was beginning to believe the whole man bun thing.

“Fine, fine.” The big brother placated, “It was just a thought. But…” 

Suddenly his eyes landed on ME. The grin on his face was like a kid at Christmas.

“It would be a sin if we didn’t at least take this beauty out for a spin!” He concluded

“Oh, no, no, no ,no…” I repeated in an anxious chant.

“Tighten your belts, sweetheart! It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!” GC taunted.

Diva Sam gave me a critical once over, weighing the pros and cons, “I don’t know. Seems a little butch for you, doesn’t it, Dean?”

“Oh, lighten up, Samuel! It could be fun!” He cajoled while snapping a few selfies of himself perched on my hood. “A nice change from our usual.”

While his brother considered the proposal, I kept a sharp eye on this watered down Winchester. If he were my Dean, I’d be convinced he was pulling a bait and switch on his little bro. Suggesting something outlandish he knew would never fly just to get him to agree to what he REALLY wanted to do.

As the younger Winchester finally heaved a sigh of resignation and proceeded to head for my passenger door, I saw a certain glint in his big brother’s eye and a smirk of his lips that had me wondering.

“Hmmm.” I murmured unconsciously.

“What?” GC queried, glancing between me and these imposters worriedly.

“It’s nothing.” I reassured him, “I was just thinking there might be some similarities between these chuckleheads and our boys after all.”

Due to his anxiety over Jack, Dean had left his keys in the ignition, so, much to my trepidation, it looked like I was about to be borrowed for a little joyride. Other Dean cranked my key and jumped in startlement as my engine roared into life before settling into its usual growling purr. Meanwhile, other Sam was fumbling against the seats like he was looking for something.

“Dean,” He whined, “There aren’t any seatbelts! This is a death machine!”

“Don’t be such a baby, Samuel.” He responded as he stroked my dash in appreciation, “We’re just taking a quick spin and then...Oh! Look! It has a cassette player! How quaint. See if you can find some tapes.” 

As he proceeded to shift me into drive and exit the garage, his brother found the cardboard box with the boys’ music collection and shuffled through it.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” GC intoned dramaticly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let them screw me up.” I assured. “Truth is, they're gonna be in enough trouble when Dean finds out about this little excursion.”

“That’s the damn truth!” GC replied.

We’d hit the road outside when The Sam huffed in exasperation. “I can’t believe they listen to this garbage! There’s not a decent band here at all!”

“They must at least have some Savage Garden?” The Dean said confidently.

“Nope. Not even a single Nickelback album.” His brother stated in confusion. “It’s just all head banging junk like Metallica and AC/DC….and an unhealthy amount of Led Zepplin.” He continued searching, checking the glovebox, when he shouted in triumph, “Aha! Finally!”

“What is it?” 

Raising the cassette excitedly, he announced, “Celine Dion!”

“Fine.” Sighed the older brother, “I guess that will have to do.”

As the tape was popped in, we finally hit the open road.

“Let’s see what this baby can do!” The Dean said as he punched the gas…. to a whole five miles over the speed limit.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!” I breathed in astonishment to GC. He just laughed harder.

“We got a real daredevil on our hands!” He commented.

Meanwhile, The Sam was in a state of panic, demanding that his brother slow down and keep his eyes on the road.

His brother just batted his hands away from the wheel and told him to calm down and enjoy the ride.

As we continued our kiddie version of Grand Theft Auto, the two gentleman began discussing the up and down sides between their new universe and the one they had left.

“No boring board meetings.” Said the Dean.

“No trust funds.” Retorted his brother.

“No paparazzi following us.”

“No supermodels either.”

“No father watching our every move.” The Dean smirked.

The younger man shot a disbelieving look at him. “No, here they have God watching them! Or Chuck. Whatever that’s all about. You really think that’s an improvement?”

“You really think that’s true? I mean God? Why would He care about these guys? They’re not even in the Fortune 500!” Other Dean asked in confusion.

Samuel got a thoughtful look as he contemplated his answer. “Well, judging by the fact their universe is still here and ours is gone, perhaps there is more to these fellows than meets the eye.”

They both sat in subdued silence as they drove on.

“Their universe is gone?” I asked my old friend.

“Yup. Theirs and apparently every other universe besides this one.” Replied GC in a much saddened and somewhat scared tone.

“Shit.”

“You said it.” He whispered. “It’s all up to our boys now.”

The silence was broken when the elder brother said in a solemn voice, “Did you see who was President in this world?”

His brother glanced quickly and looked away. “Yes.”

“Do you think we should….”

“No.” Was the swift reply. “I think they have enough to worry about right now. Plus, we don’t know for sure that this one made the same deal.”

His brother nodded agreement.

“Well, that didn’t sound ominous at all.” I said, glancing in worry at GC.

“I wouldn’t dwell on it, old friend. There’ll be time to deal with it after we save the universe.” He replied ironically.

“This never gets easier, does it?”

“Not with OUR boys.” He answered with a soft, fond smile.

As we passed yet another flat, empty field, Samuel spoke up. “I really think we should be heading back, Dean. They will be looking for us soon and we did not ask permission to take the car out. There is a chance they will not be happy with us.”

“You worry too much, Samuel.” Chuckled other Dean, but he turned around.

“And how would you react if someone drove off with our sweet Bebé?” He questioned.

The Dean gave him a stunned, blank stare for a few moments before responding, “I would report it to the police of course! Then I would get a new one.”

“Yes, yes, but….”

“It’s a lease, for goodness sake! Really, Samuel, what a ridiculous question!”

“A poor example, perhaps.” He stated with a frustrated sigh. “What if they took your favorite suede jacket without permission?”

Suddenly, other Dean’s jaw tightened in anger. “I’d kill them! I’d find them and ruin their credit rating and then I’d kill them!”

His brother patted his shoulder trying to calm him down as he assured him that his jacket was safe.

“Seriously?” I demanded. “A fucking coat is what gets him all wound up?”

GC just looked at me and shrugged. “Different strokes for different folks?”

The rest of the drive home was made in silence. Well, except for the impressive range and emotional intensity of Ms. Dion pouring out my speakers.

We pulled in and parked and as these unbelievable copies of my boys walked back into the bunker, I was relieved they never bothered to check in my trunk.

“Well, that was certainly strange.” I commented to my chilly friend.

“That’s one way of putting it!” Was his comeback.

The next day, when a Sam and Dean sauntered into the garage, I wasn’t sure which pair I was dealing with, so I kept a cautious eye out.

As Dean turned the key, Celine Dion wailed out of my speakers, singing about her heart going on. 

“SAMMY!!!”

“Shit.”

Yup. My boys were back and life was sweet.


End file.
